Snow Angels
by JulzPadfootMoony
Summary: "Make snow angels with me, Potter," Malfoy said, still not looking over at Harry. The Gryffindor sat halfway up and goggled at the Slytherin, wondering who had hit him with a Confundus charm. "You've lost your marbles, Malfoy." HP/DM pre-slash.


**A/N:** Hi again! Well, I started writing this a long time ago in the winter, when it was snowing, but it got cut off and forgotten about. Upon my discovery of it, I decided to finish it once and for all. So, for those of you who live in places where the temperatures are steadily rising to unbearable highs, have a little story about some nice cold snow. Enjoy!

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**Snow Angels**

The frigid air didn't bother him; not today. He needed to get away from the castle, from the people who kept telling him to give up. The grounds seemed to be empty, and the thick layer of untouched snow reflected the faint sunlight so bright that the large grey clouds hardly mattered. Even as he walked towards the lake, soft snow flakes began to fall all around him, catching in his hair and on his eye lashes.

He continued to trudge through the snow, intending to make it to his favourite tree by the lake before the snow fall got so thick that he couldn't see through it. As he drew nearer, he realized that there was somebody else already there. Someone was lying in the snow beside the tree, their arms and legs splayed wide as they drew them in and out, making a shape in the snow that was supposed to look like an angel.

He couldn't tell who it was. Their robes were covered in snow, and their hair so white that it blended in. He stopped right beside the person making the snow angel, waiting for them to notice him.

"It's not polite to stare, Potter," a familiar, aristocratic drawl floated up from the snow. Malfoy's eyes were still closed though, and Harry hadn't said a word to give himself away. He continued staring down at the blonde, waiting for him to look up, to acknowledge his silence.

Instead, Harry felt a hand moved swiftly through the snow and snag him around the shins, knocking his legs out from under him so that he landed on his back next to Malfoy with a quiet 'umph!'

"What the hell, Malfoy?" Harry wheezed, trying to catch the breath that had been knocked out of him upon his landing on the unforgiving earth. As soft and fluffy as snow looked, it certainly didn't feel that way. It was hard, wet and freezing cold.

"Make snow angels with me, Potter," Malfoy said, still not looking over at Harry. The Gryffindor sat halfway up and goggled at the Slytherin, wondering who had hit him with a Confundus charm.

"You've lost your marbles, Malfoy."

"I used to run around on the grounds of the Manor during the first snow, every winter when I was little. I would pick a random spot, lie down, and wait for the snow to fall all around me, and then I'd stand up. My shape would be snow-less, and my mother would charm it to stay that way. That's the Wizarding version of a snow angel. A couple of years ago during Christmas break, I met a Muggle boy, only a year older than me. He showed me how to make Muggle snow angels. They're strangely more satisfying. When you stand in something's way, you're only preventing change. When you let something follow its natural course, you can change it to your will."

Harry was still staring at Malfoy as the boy rambled on, still not looking over at him. He was about to make another comment on the blonde's sanity, and possible lack thereof, but never got the chance as a heavy weight was suddenly upon him. Harry struggled for a second before he realized it was Malfoy, straddling his hips with a bright smile on his pale, pink-tinged face.

"What in the name of Merlin?"

"Potter, is there a Dark Mark on my arm?" Malfoy asked quietly, staring down in the Gryffindor's eyes.

Harry tried not to squirm, but the pressure on his lower half was causing a very embarrassing reaction in Harry's trousers. Malfoy was a _boy_, for Merlin's sake. And he was _Malfoy_!

"Er...yes?"

"_No!_ No, there's not. Look," Malfoy pulled the sleeve of his robes up, revealing an expanse of smooth, pale skin on his left forearm. No Dark Mark.

"Ok, I'm sorry. But...why are you telling me this?" Harry left the question of why the blonde was straddling him unasked, lest it bring attention to his half-hard erection pressing against the placket of his trousers.

Malfoy leaned down, close, almost so that their noses touched. Harry could feel his breath, could smell the slightly minty smell of toothpaste mingled with sandalwood, undoubtedly his cologne. Harry was also finding it very hard to breathe just then.

"My arm will stay unmarked, do you understand? I'm done playing His mind games and fearing for my parents' lives. They dug their own graves years ago when they decided to follow a psychotic half-blood jumped up on a power trip. I want to be a _kid_, Harry, I want to make snow angels and snow men and have snow ball fights. I _don't_ want to be my father," Malfoy whispered, so close now that his lips brushed Harry's.

Harry lifted his head, pressing his lips to the blonde's, realizing that Malfoy had gone in for the kiss at the same time. It was wet, it was sloppy and Malfoy used too much teeth and not enough tongue, but it was _perfect_. Absolutely nothing like kissing a girl, and Harry had a feeling he'd never be doing _that_ again.

As abruptly as it had happened, Malfoy rolled off of Harry and back into his spot in the snow, redefining the shape of his snow angel with long sweeps of his arms and legs. Harry laid back and copied Malfoy's movements, their finger tips brushing as they passed each other in the snow.

"Malfoy?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

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**A/N:** Pretty short, I know, but that's all there was to it, folks! Thanks for reading, and I hope you'll leave a review!


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